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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868236">Tell Me Tomorrow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysAkin/pseuds/AlwaysAkin'>AlwaysAkin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Multi, Secret Identity, Time Travel Fix-It, Worldbuilding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:12:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868236</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysAkin/pseuds/AlwaysAkin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>But strangest of all, she could hardly smell anything. Normally, she could pinpoint every person from a mile away. But when she tried now, there was nothing. She felt… Mortal.</p><p>What was perhaps the worst of all was the lack of the familiar flame that was her magic. She reached down into the depths of her, but couldn’t even summon anything. </p><p>Not even a single gods-damned spark.  </p><p>Even after she had forged the lock, even after most of her powers had disappeared, she had had some magic left. Some form of comfort.</p><p>She hadn’t felt this cut off from her magic since she had been… Celaena Sardothien.</p><p>No. It wasn’t possible.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aedion Ashryver/Lysandra, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn, Elide Lochan/Lorcan Salvaterre</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1: If The Fates Will It So</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Wake up!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nehemia Ytger sat up with a jolt. Blinking wearily, she took in her surroundings - she was an immaculately decorated room in the castle in Rifthold that had felt like a prison ever since she got there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That wasn’t right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wasn’t she supposed to be dead? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had organized it so thoroughly, convincing Archer Finn that it was necessary to kill her. She abhorred that it had to come to </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that she would have to sacrifice her own life. In all honesty, Nehemia couldn’t help but feel bitter at the prospect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was the only way to spur Elentiya into action. To force her to do what needed to be done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because there was only one person with the power and drive to save the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adarlan’s Assassin. Celaena Sardothien. Aelin Galathynius. The woman who bore Brandon’s mark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dear friend, who she had lied to, but who had lied to her too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nehemia heard a sharp knock at her door, but it did little to cut off her rapidly turning thoughts. By the gods, how was she alive? She had died, she was quite certain of it.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She recalled what it had felt like to die, the pain that had shot through her body with each slice of the knife. So she was certain that it had happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had not wanted to die, though she had known it was coming ever since Elena had spoken to her. Since she had been told she would never see her home again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had despaired in the knowledge that she would never see her home again, never experience the beautiful weather or the sound of her language spoken again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nehemia had not said goodbye to her parents or her brothers like it was the last time she would see them. She thought Kharis might have known, might have seen the sorrow in her eyes. He was always the brother that she was closest to, the one who had joined her in her rebel activities, for Deji was far too young. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stand strong, little sister,” Kharis had whispered in her ear on the docks of Banjali, as she hugged him goodbye. “I trust you can do what needs to be done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had carried those words with her as she lived in the house of her enemy, laughed and dined with those who had enslaved her people, and tried in vain to change what little she could, to forge a better world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had she succeeded? She could only hope that she did, but she surely didn’t if she was back here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was another knock on the door. It was harsher, more frantic then the knock before it. “Princess?” A voice called, and Nehemia felt the urge to smile in relief at the sound of Eyllwe being spoken. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nehemia recognized the voice. It was Remeli, one of the guards who accompanied her too Rifthold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that couldn’t be right. She had sent Remeli home two months ago. He had wished to be with his wife as she delivered their first child. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Queen Georgina has requested that you take a walk with her in the gardens, and I fear she is growing impatient,” Remeli continued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That wasn’t possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had recalled that day, a month ago, when she had gone with the Queen, with the hope of going something about the slaves in Calaculla. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a waste of time. The Queen had no interest in the politics of the realm, instead preferring vapid gossip and talk about fashion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was fairly certain that Georgina Havillard had little interest in another one of those outings, as both women had been bored out of their minds by the end of the hour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which left only one possibility, however insane it was. Somehow, through some sort of divine intervention, Nehemia Ytger was in the past. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t know why the fates saw fit to send her back, but she was hardly going to waste time worrying. Her plan hadn’t changed, irked as she was that she had to repeat it, that she had to die again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nehemia took a deep breath, calming her nerves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m coming,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wake up!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the Queen of Terrasen and Fae Queen of the West, reached beside her for the warmth of her mate. The other side of her bed was cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She supposed that wasn’t too unusual. Rowan had been an early riser ever since the war had ended, preferring to wake up near the crack of dawn most mornings, and help Aedion train the guards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aelin suspected that it was Rowan’s attempt to distract her cousin from his bouts of anxiety. Aedion and Lysandra’s wedding was approaching quickly, and the Wolf of the North seemed to be in a perpetual state of anxiety. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had no fear that Aedion would leave Lysandra at the aisle - in fact, she would have killed her cousin in a multitude of ways if he had tried. Rowan seemed to think that Aedion was rather afraid that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lysandra </span>
  </em>
  <span>would be the one to back out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aelin had choked on a laugh when her mate had told her his theory. She had seen the way the shifter had watched her cousin when Aedion wasn’t looking. If that wasn’t love, then Aelin didn’t know what was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It rather… Reminded her of the way she looked at Rowan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Queen opened her eyes with a smile on her face, only to stop dead at what she saw. She wasn’t in her well-decorated bedroom in the castle of Orynth. She wasn’t even in the library in the palace, where she often fell asleep poring over different plans with Lysandra and Elide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, the room she was in was poorly decorated, and covered in a layer of dust. There was a small single bed with coarse linens that she was on top of, and a wooden desk in the corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though there was a small open window in the corner of the room, the air felt humid, not like the cool, soothing Terrasen mornings that had become more and more common as fall approached. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But strangest of all, she could hardly smell anything. Normally, she could pinpoint every person from a mile away. But when she tried now, there was nothing. She felt… Mortal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was perhaps the worst of all was the lack of the familiar flame that was her magic. She reached down into the depths of her, but couldn’t even summon anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even a single gods-damned spark.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even after she had forged the lock, even after most of her powers had disappeared, she had had some magic left. Some form of comfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t felt this cut off from her magic since she had been… Celaena Sardothien.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. It wasn’t possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A strange sort of panic gripping her, Aelin reached up to touch her ears. They were round. Human. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt her teeth. Her canines had disappeared, along with her senses and magic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In desperation, she reached for her mating bond, for her better half, who would surely know what to do. It was gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aelin let out a desperate, strangled cry, flopping onto the bed. She bedheld her shaking, </span>
  <em>
    <span>scarred</span>
  </em>
  <span>, hands, and allowed herself one moment of loss, of sorrow for what she had had and lost. Then she reigned herself in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was Aelin Galathynius. And she would not break. She just had to figure out what was going on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She noticed a bag in the corner of the room, and picked it up, examining the contents. In it she found piles of coins - an obscene amount to be carrying, really - a signet ring, and a severed head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallowed down the bile that made its way up her throat, forcing herself to look at the contents with a critical eye. The head looked similar to that of Lord Nirall, who she had killed back when she was the King’s Champion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she had faked the deaths of all those the King had ordered her to kill. Two years ago, back before she had been the Queen of Terrasen, formed her court, met Rowan. A month before Nehemia had died. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was impossible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t be in the past. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet she remembered this day. It had been the day before the King had ordered her to kill Archer Finn. The room she had stayed in had looked like this, and she certainly hadn’t carried around a severed head as of late. She would leave </span>
  <em>
    <span>hobbies</span>
  </em>
  <span> like that to Manon Blackbeak-Crochan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fates couldn’t be so cruel as to force Aelin to live through all of this again. She had killed Maeve, killed Erawan, and returned Terrasen to glory. She had earned a lifetime of peace. And now she had to do it all over again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without Rowan by her side. Without Aedion. Without Lysandra, Elide, Fenrys, or even gods-damned Lorcan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The absence of the mating bond was like an ache in her soul. She wondered what Rowan was doing now, if he was still the harsh, guarded commander she had met in Wendlyn months and months ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aelin shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to be lost in memories of what once was. If Rowan was here, he would tell her to move on, to figure out what needed to be done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could save so many people. Gavriel, the Thirteen, Nehemia and Kaltain. If the price was only more pain for her, her mate never looking at her with love in his eyes again… Even if it killed her, she would pay it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had the advantage here, the knowledge of the Valg and the future. So she would resemble her court, the greatest court that Terrassen had ever known, and they would rattle the stars. Together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, all she had to do was play the part of the King’s Assassin. She would bide her time, make as many changes as possible. They would never see it coming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips twitched into that old smirk, and she filled her steps with as much swagger as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t Aelin Galathynius that left that strode toward Rifthold, body in hand and lies on the tip of her tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Celeana Sardothien. And she had a job to do. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2: Across the Sea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In Rifthold and across the ocean, plans are formed as more people wake up.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 2</p><p>Lysandra Essar (soon to be Ashryver), Lady of Caraverre and proud member of the court of Terassen, was wearing a hole in the rug as she paced up and down. </p><p>This couldn’t be possible. It wasn’t happening. And yet… It was. </p><p>She was in the past. </p><p>She had woken up this morning in a room in that brothel that was her home for far too long, a strange, vaguely familiar man beside her. </p><p>She had bit her lip hard enough that it had nearly bruised, but she hadn’t screamed or shown any outward signs of panic, even as the fear coursed through her. When she tried to shift, there had been nothing. </p><p>She had checked her wrist, and had sworn softly when she noted the lack of a mark of freedom. Lysandra was back to the past that she hated, the life of a courtesan that had been her cage for so long. </p><p>When she had gone to bed last night, she had been confused, to say the least. What sort of power had sent her back to a time she hated? She knew that she ought to be grateful for this chance to relive her life, but she couldn’t muster even a single speck of gratitude.</p><p>How could anyone possibly think that this was what she wanted? She had been just days away from her wedding to Aedion, and while he was more anxious than usual, everything seemed to be going great. She had the man she loved, Evangeline, her friends, and a newly discovered uncle. And it was all ripped away in a matter of seconds.</p><p>Where was Evangeline? She remembered the girl arriving around the time Archer Finn died, so she had to have come back before that. She wasn’t going to scar her this time if she could help it. That had only been a last resort, a way to save a girl she loved like a little sister from a life that would eat her up inside. </p><p>Lysandra prayed that help would come this time, that Aelin or Elide or even Lorcan would come to free her. Without her powers, she had no means of escaping the gilded cage that she had been forced into. </p><p>And even if she had a way to free herself, she wouldn’t dare unless she could take Evangeline with her. </p><p>She heard two sharp raps on the door, signalling that her brief reprieve between clients was over. Clarrise had told her this morning, with her typical sickeningly sweet fake smile, that it was a man called Axel, a general who had been stationed in Ornyth for months.</p><p>Wait… </p><p>Perhaps this man had information on the state of affairs in Terrasan? She had always found that people were looser with their tongues in the bedroom, after a few coy smiles and climaxes. </p><p>In the past, she had amused herself with the gossip of the city: whose wife was cheating with whose husband, fashion mishaps, little bits of vinticative pleasure that other people were suffering just as she was. Lysandra felt the shame rising up in her just thinking of it. She had not been a good person.</p><p>While she may have not been able to help Aelin through her shapeshifting while magic was still gone, she could find information. No one would suspect a courtesan to be a spy for Terrasan, much less someone who had never left Rifthold in her life. </p><p>“Gods, will you just hurry the hells up,” groaned the exasperated voice of her guard outside the door. “Miss Clarrise will be furious at the both of us, you know.” </p><p>Lysandra swallowed hard, smoothing out the phantom wrinkles on her dress. She could do this.  She let her voice take the tone of the spoiled girl she had once been, readjusting her posture and letting her sense of authority slip away. It felt almost like shapeshifting. </p><p>“I’ll be there in a minute. You can stand to wait, you know!” </p><p>She would lie, and she would smile, and she would spy for the family she knew she would gain in the future. <br/>And sooner rather than later, Lysandra Essar would be free. </p><p>~~</p><p>Vaughan was exceedingly confused. He had spent the last few months wandering through woods and plains and marshlands in the blasted continent of Erilea, fulfilling the bare minimum of his blood-sworn duty to find and kill Lorcan. </p><p>He had heard rumours of a male matching Lorcan’s descriptions travelling with a black-haired girl with a noticeable limp. He had managed to ignore those, despite the strain that it caused his blood oath, heading to a tavern in a small town and drinking everyone else under the table. </p><p>He had liked all the members of his cadre well enough, even the broody Lorcan, who was completely and utterly devoted to their Queen, past the point of reason. Gavriel, kind and understanding Gavriel, would forever be everyone’s favourite, but he was fond of them all. </p><p>He had never been devoted to Maeve or her cause the way the others had been. He had been the son of a blacksmith in a small village two weeks ride from Mistward, where nothing had ever seemed to happen. </p><p>When he had the chance to leave the small town he had taken it immediately. Vaughan had always hated the small-minded people, their judgemental eyes when he took too long to answer a question or stared at one of the other boys in the temple for a little too long, fighting the urge to blush. </p><p>He had discovered a sense of camaraderie in the military that he had never had at home, and felt that he had made the right choice leaving his life behind. </p><p>At least, he had felt that way until pillagers came to his village and burned his father’s shop and livelihood down. The costs of rebuilding were far too exorbitant, and no one had stepped up to help them. </p><p>They had been drowning in debt, until Maeve had come to Vaughan with an offer - his life in service of her in exchange for the money his parents needed. And true to her word, his parents had died content and wealthy beyond imagining. </p><p>But the thing about Vaughan was that he was observant. He had always been quiet, and good at fading into the background, observing others when they didn’t even notice that he was there. And something about his Queen had always seemed almost off… to him. </p><p>When his blood oath had snapped on a random evening, he had revelled in the joy of feeling free. He had spent centuries fighting a war, and now he was ready for some peace. Perhaps he would find out what had happened to the rest of his Cadre. </p><p>It had been the shock of the century when stoic and broken Rowan, the perfect soldier, had fallen in love with the Princess of Terrasan (the Queen now, if the rumours had been true). He knew his brother well enough to recognize the look of love in his eyes, similar to the devotion that Lorcan had always looked at Maeve with. </p><p>He had barely interacted with Aelin Galathynius, though he knew that she had saved all of their lives. But he felt the power raging beneath her skin and saw the way she was ignorant of Rowan’s near devotion, and smiled inwardly. </p><p>Vaughan wasn’t surprised to start hearing Rowan’s name in conjunction with Aelin during his occasional returns into civilization, when he overheard hushed whispers in inns. He was certain, in fact, that Aelin played some role in the death of the Queen, maybe even killing her. He wasn’t overly bothered by it.</p><p>Yes, Vaughan was observant, and had amassed a certain degree of knowledge over the course of his long life. He wasn’t often confused. But right now, he had absolutely no idea what was going on. </p><p>He had woken up in his rooms at Maeve’s palace, when he hadn’t been there in over a year. The Queen of the Fae was very much alive, when he had felt his blood oath snap months ago. Everything was just how it had been before Aelin Galathynius had arrived in Wendlyn. </p><p>All the members of his Cadre were here to give Maeve their yearly report of the new recruits. He dimly recalled this happening the first time around. Everything was exactly as it was before. </p><p>“Lorcan, by the gods, what has gotten into you?” He heard Gavriel’s voice, sounding nothing less than astonished. <br/>“Have you seen her? Elide?” Lorcan asked, breathless. </p><p>“What are you going on about? Did you have too much wine last night? I can’t think of any reasonable explanation for you acting in such a manner.”</p><p>Well, Vaughan supposed one thing had changed. Lorcan had been travelling around, a look of anxiety on his normally stoic face, asking the other members of the Cadre if they had seen a woman named Elide, and getting increasingly distressed when they had asked who “Elide” was. </p><p>Lorcan turned his frantic eyes onto Vaughan next. Anticipating what his brother was going to say, Vaughan grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him into a nearby empty ballroom, where they were unlikely to be overheard. </p><p>“Tell me,” Vaughan started, “have you woken back up in Mistward with no idea how you got here? And before you ask, no, I have not seen this “Elide” you speak of.”</p><p>“So you remember. I thought I was the only one. It seems that we have somehow travelled back in time.” Lorcan glanced at Vaughan, his facial expression a great deal softer than Vaughan had ever seen before. Something had changed, likely something related to this Elide girl. “Tell me, what is the last thing you remember?”</p><p>“I was wandering through the countryside after my blood oath had snapped. I assume the Queen of Terrasen had something to do with that?”</p><p>Lorcan’s gaze darkened. “I did too. It was nothing less than Maeve deserved.”</p><p>Vaughan had never expected for the Queen’s most loyal servant to aid in her downfall. He couldn’t help but press the demi-fae for more information. “Why? What changed?”</p><p>Lorcan swallowed, seemingly debating what to tell him. “She’s been lying to all of us. Maeve isn’t fae. She’s valg.” </p><p>“Tell me more,” Vaughan demanded. </p><p>So he did.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next chapter is the last of the awakenings and dives into the plot of the story.  Thank you all for your amazing comments, you really inspired me to continue with this story. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've always wanted to write a time travel AU, and I decided to write one about Throne of Glass. I hope it's not totally terrible lmao. </p><p>For reference, this starts in between chapters 1 and 2 of Crown of Midnight, before Celeana goes before the king. Crown of Midnight was never my favourite Throne of Glass book, so I hope I do it justice. </p><p>Next chapter: Aelin and Nehemia aren't the only ones to have their memories returned to them. I'd love to hear your guesses as to who it could be!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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